Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“You measured up, Emme. She didn’t want you to feel beautiful or to succeed where she failed. You are beautiful. You walk into a room and no one can take their eyes off you. It took me a long time to get over a very childish reaction of jealousy with so many men’s eyes on you all the time. You always felt like you were slipping away from me, and I wanted to hang on to you so much tighter. That was my insecurity, not yours. You’re beautiful inside and out. My looks cover a monster. I have to own that.”
She turned her face up to his. “That isn’t true. Those women and children you’re risking your life to find say differently, Val.” She cupped the side of his face. “You always made me feel beautiful. You were the only one. I saw that in your eyes. Felt it when you said it. Believed it. Until that night.”
“You knew better, Emme. We share the same nerve endings. I can’t lie to you. You heard the lie I told her. You hear the truth when I say how beautiful you are. When I say I love you and you’re the only woman I’ll ever love.”
She reached behind her and hooked her arm behind the nape of his neck. “All right, then, Valentino Saldi. I’m making my full commitment to you. I’ll stand with you, be loyal to you, work this thing out with you and probably hit you over the head quite often. What do we do first?”
“We get married.”
That was the last thing she expected him to say. It felt like a punch to her gut. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in a long exhale so there was no air. None. At. All.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Breathe, Princess. You know how. You’re just having a little panic attack.” Valentino was wise enough to keep the amusement out of his voice. His princess, at the mere mention of marriage, every single time, suddenly couldn’t find a way to breathe.
He held her, nuzzling the top of her head. Rocking her. Loving her. She was going to marry him. Just by the way she couldn’t breathe, he knew she was going to do it. He didn’t push her, because that was a sure way to disaster. He just held her and waited, breathing with her, watching the shadows on the wall, watching the creepy one settling back where he should be. There were no more strange, independent movements, which meant Emmanuelle had finally committed fully to him.
Peace settled into him. Strange when he’d never felt it completely encompass him. She’d brought moments to him. Little reprieves when they were together at the lake house, but then she would slip away from him and he’d feel even more alone and desperate to get her back. Sometimes he thought of just taking her. Imprisoning her like his damn shadow had done. He was a ruthless man, and not a good one. He wasn’t above using any means possible to get his woman, but he wasn’t going to do that. He wanted her to choose him. Emmanuelle was a fighter. One misstep and she might really cut his throat.
“All right. When?”
“We have to go immediately. We’ll take one of the jets to Vegas, get married and get back here. I’ll ask your brother to keep watch over Giuseppi while we’re gone. No one will know we’re even away from here. I swear, Princess, when this is over and we’ve found Miceli’s trafficking ring, we’ll have a decent wedding.”
“I don’t care about that. I was never the girl that dreamt of a fairy-tale wedding.”
He caught her chin then and lifted it so her eyes met his. He wanted her to see him. “I was the boy that dreamt of one. I wanted to watch you come to me wearing that dress, looking like my princess, Emmanuelle, on Stefano’s arm, with the church filled with our families.”
Her blue eyes moved over his face for what seemed an eternity, and then she smiled. Slow. “I guess I’ll have to wear a dress that makes me look like a princess, just for you, Valentino. We’ll have our church wedding, if that is what you really want. In the meantime, if we’re going to Vegas, I can call Franco Mancini, our pilot, and ask him to have our jet ready. Miceli will never suspect you’re on it with me. Stefano might insist on going with us.”
“Do you want him there?” Val would give her the world if he could. He had no idea if Stefano would approve of them rushing off to Vegas, let alone going with them. The idea of even telling him before it was done was daunting. He knew Stefano had a tremendous influence on Emmanuelle. Her oldest brother’s word had been law for too many years.